


i will go on (until the end)

by Remy (iamremy)



Category: Cal Leandros - Rob Thurman
Genre: Dystopia, End of the World, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Gating, M/M, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 13:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4836836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy/pseuds/Remy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>20,000 years after the world ends, Ishiah loses Robin.</p>
<p>One million years after the world ends, Ishiah finds him again.</p>
<hr/>
<p>For <a href="http://tricksterkat209.tumblr.com/">tricksterkat209</a> :* </p>
            </blockquote>





	i will go on (until the end)

**Author's Note:**

> To the thief of my heart, Kat <333 I love you.

Legends have been around for as long as there have been people to tell them.

Some have been around longer.

* * *

 

They know now to avoid him, the tall figure dressed entire in black that cuts through the sandy winds of the desert wasteland like it is nothing, like these selfsame winds have not preyed upon the hardiest of warriors and come out on top. There used to be cities here, long ago, back when the Sun was still too bright to see and the stars would twinkle at night like miniature diamonds across a velvet sky. Now there is nothing, nothing but black, ashy sand as far as the eye can see and then beyond. No one dares roam through this wasteland – it only brings sickness and death to those who try.

It seems to have no effect on the tall, dark figure.

They watch by night as he roams, and by day they hide because if he sees them he will not hesitate to cut them down. They used to hunt his kind, once upon a time, considered his species too honorable with too strong a moral code, but that was long ago, when the Sun was too bright to see.

Now he hunts them, and he is relentless in his fury and his wrath.

* * *

 

No one knows how long he’s been here, or even how long he’s been alive. Some say he’s fairly young, that he was born just as the last fiery spark of the Sun was extinguished in a hushed rain of ash and smoke. Some say he’s been alive long enough to live through the cities of old. Yet others say he’s old enough to have witnessed their birth, their growth and then their death.

If the last is true – and many would be willing to bet their last reserves of game that it is – then he has lived through the fall of civilization, of his kind and of every kind that there is; has lived long enough to see the rise of a new species, one that would put the Auphe to shame in terms of brutality and sheer bloodlust; and therefore, has lived long enough to find a way to overcome them. It would definitely explain how there is no fear in his eyes when he is faced by one – though it has been a long time since that. Even _they_ know better than to engage him now, and attempts on his life have ended in bloodshed and excruciating defeat.

No one knows where _they_ come from, the Auphe’s Second Coming, the Descendants, the Legacies, but it is rumored that they have evolved from vampires. There is no way to know – certainly there are no vampires left to ask, and the Auphe died out long ago, back when cities still thrived and the Sun was too bright to see – and the only other option is asking the lone man, which is not really an option at all.

No one knows why he does what he does, why he roams and roams and does not stop for anything. No one knows what he’s looking for. No one knows what he’ll do once he finds it.

* * *

 

Sometimes he is accompanied by two men, who smell different from him – human, they would say, but that is impossible because humans cannot breathe this new atmosphere of ash and smoke and fiery rain. Yet here they are, and they stand tall and proud and fierce, long braided hair billowing out behind them in the wind that seems to have no effect on them either. They are never seen apart, and the one that tried to divide them to make them easier prey ended up pinned to a rock with a sharp metal blade protruding from one eye or sometimes even out of the mouth. Courtesy of the one with the long black hair, of course – the taller one who has hair like dark molten sunshine shows much more restraint, kills much more quickly instead of playing around.

They roam the same as he does, restlessly and relentlessly, through the winds and the storms that have been known to rip flesh from bone and leave nothing but skeletons behind, but these men are not affected at all, no, one would almost think that their skins are made of the same metal that they fashion their old, archaic weapons from. Perhaps they are. It would make sense, for these humans to have survived so long when the last of their race has so long ago either died out or evolved.

There are rumors (of course there are rumors – in a time haunted by fear of the world and three men who might as well be the grim reapers, what else can there be?) that the one with the black braid might not be entirely human, though. Something about the smile on his face, how his eyes flash red at times, how he can travel thousands of miles in an instant and how nothing can kill him without him taking it down with him. Or his brother – for that’s who the blond is – taking it down before it even reaches him. No one tries to come between them after the first seven die so painfully that they were begging for it by the end.

The tall dark one just watches silently and says not a word to either stop or encourage the carnage. He is, they’ve come to learn, just as fearsome and terrifying as the other two. Perhaps even more, on account of having lived far longer.

They roam and they roam and they roam for centuries without stopping, and no one wants to know what it is they’re looking for.

* * *

 

And then one day the worst storm they’ve had this side of the fourth millennium hits, and there is fire falling from the sky and meteoroid rain as the sun finally, _finally_ breaks apart and disintegrates, and every volcano on the surface of this sad, broken planet erupts, the seas boil and tsunamis overwhelm the coastlines, and earthquakes tear apart the very surface of the world. And they hide, they all hide in whatever flimsy shelter that they hope in vain will shield them from the end of the world as they know it, but it is not enough, and _still_ the three men roam the ash desert as if the furnace of the sky does not leave a single mark upon them.

The storm is at its zenith when suddenly the black-haired half-human stops in his tracks, and taps his brother’s forearm lightly before nodding to the third and vanishing in a whirl of acid-gray. The tall man dressed all in black raises an eyebrow at the remaining human, who just nods in return and places a hand on his companion’s shoulder, and it suddenly seems like he can’t stand on his own two feet anymore. It is the first sign of weakness they have seen from this unbeatable warrior.

A minute passes, then another, then five, and still the two men stand there as they are waiting for something, and there is something other than passiveness on the warrior’s face – an expression that has not been seen in so long that its very existence has become myth, as legendary as the warrior himself. But then he exists, and so why shouldn’t it?

It is hope.

Centuries and centuries, through fire and rain and ash and lava.

Hope, as foreign as the cities of old.

The gray rip in the fabric of reality itself reappears, and the man with the black braid falls through it, but he is not alone. A tall, wiry stranger gets to his feet and straightens, curly brown hair cascading ash and black sand, and green eyes a forest of light in a face darkened with soot and something else that no one can identify.

He shapes his mouth around just a single word – _“Ishiah_ ” – and it is enough to break the man from his composure. He staggers forward and wraps his arms around this new person, embraces him with the strength of centuries, of years spent searching every corner of the planet, of pain and loneliness, and it is as if he can hide the man inside him just by trying, by pressing him into the empty space under his ribs, where his heart should be.

The stranger kisses the long scar on the man’s – Ishiah’s – jaw and smiles softly, and it lights up his eyes in a way that no one would have believed if they hadn’t bore witness to it. The two brothers stand aside and just in time, because—

A pair of huge wings unfurls from the man’s back and stretches into the space behind him, the appendages flexing and twitching as if it’s been forever since they’ve been used – and without having to be told, they just know it _has_ been. Or as close to forever to someone so old, anyway.

The wings spread to their full length, and they are _magnificent_ – pure, snow-white barred with gold the color of the Sun as it had been, and the ash-rain cannot touch them, cannot taint the purity of them no matter the amount that falls on them. The man with the brown hair smiles and separates one arm from the tangle of limbs they’ve become to run a finger down one of the feathers, and the wings tremble along with their owner before moving to wrap themselves around the man.

They kiss under the blood-red sky and the broken Sun and the lava and meteorites and ash and smoke, as the earth continues to shake and the seas beat themselves against the shores of whatever land is left. They kiss as the earth breaks open and the black sand comprised of ashes and bones begins to spill into it, as the world falls apart in every sense of the world, as every creature under the Sun torn asunder hurries to find refuge in vain.

They kiss as the black-haired one opens up a third hole in a fast-finishing reality and pulls the four of them through, and the world ends a few seconds after the last gold-and-white feather vanishes through in a tumble of brown curls and light blond hair.

**Author's Note:**

> I completely fucked over astronomy and for that I am sorry. No, I don't actually know how the Sun will end. Dammit, I'm a doctor not an astronomer.
> 
> Feedback will be lovely <333
> 
> [my tumblr.](http://chesterbennington.co.vu)
> 
> -Remy x


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